


Equilibrium

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: And pretty fluffy, F/M, Generally canon-compliant, Santos for President Campaign, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: A state in which forces of tension in opposing directions are balanced and stable.  A moment to rest before everything begins changing again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Today's fic is from a prompt by ActuallyLorelaiGilmore who asked for "Annabeth and Leo on the campaign trail? It's a good day for fluff." I had not realized how cute Annabeth and Leo could be until I actually started putting them together, but they are adorable. It's really about as fluffy as I could make it, given the circumstances and the timing. Hope you enjoy!

The conversation was inevitable, really. She'd kept quiet as long as she could, which really wasn't very long in the grand scheme of things, but Annabeth was a speaker of truth to power and that was what made her valuable. Keeping quiet about important issues was simply not in her nature. That was why she would not have made a good press secretary on her own. Press secretaries were cagey creatures, Annabeth was not. When there was a problem, Annabeth either faced it head-on or ran from it in the other directions as fast as her compact and efficiently proportioned legs would carry her. It was not in her to let things lay until they could begin to fester, whether that thing was a tawdry tabloid rumor, some faulty wording in a press release, or an unexamined emotional state in her own mind. 

That unexamined state had been bothering her for weeks already, ever since she'd joined Leo on the campaign trail. Leo McGarry was not a traditional heartthrob type like his running mate, but Annabeth would defy any red-blooded heterosexual woman to look at that craggy face and those sparkling eyes and not feel at least a little something happening in the lady business. Annabeth had certainly felt it (and it had not hurt that she didn't have to crane her neck just to see his face like she did with so many handsome men), but she'd had no idea what to do about it. Image consulting required a great deal of study and consideration of every part of the body on behalf of the consultant, and a great deal of trust and willingness to accept direction on the part of the client. Both of those postures could be read as flirtatious to someone who didn't know better, but in the past, Annabeth had never had any trouble keeping things impersonal. Until Leo. 

Everything felt more personal with Leo. Incidental touches like brushing off his jacket or straightening his tie felt personal. Bickering with him about name pronunciation and facial expressions felt personal, especially on the rare occasions she could get him to admit a point and he'd give her that self-effacing grin. Falling asleep on him on the plane was absolutely personal (she'd never done that at all with anybody else, no matter how exhausted she was). When she'd confiscated his watch, she couldn't help notice how warm it felt in her hand, and how it smelled a little bit of his cologne. All of it was very confusing, and a bit nerve-wracking. It was just that much worse because she suspected he didn't feel the same way at all. When they'd been on the elevator and he'd suggested getting dinner, she knew he meant it as a business thing, as a friends at the office thing. So she'd done what she always did and told him she couldn't, because of the tension, and she'd smiled, and she'd run in the other direction as fast as her compact little legs could carry her. She could hear the bafflement in his voice when he called after her, but she knew he'd be thinking about it. 

And she'd been very right about that. The moments between them were still very small. Most people looking at them wouldn't see anything at all. But sometimes his fingers brushed hers when he handed over his watch, and he would meet her eyes so she'd know it wasn't an accident. He liked to lean against walls and talk to people, but when he did it with her, he leaned in a little bit as well. From most men, that would've meant an annoying sort of looming, but Leo made it a subtle intimacy. Annabeth's business was optics, and whenever anybody else was around, she was the soul of professionalism and discretion. When they were alone, though, she started talking more freely, a little more flirtily, just to see what he would do about it. 

The next time he asked her out to dinner was weeks later, on an unimportant little campaign stop in southern Ohio. Annabeth hadn't even been flirting at that point, too caught up in figuring out how to best position him in the auditorium to make up for a burnt-out bulb that left a dark patch on the stage. Despite her years of experience, Annabeth still had trouble with conveying stage left and stage right, so she simply put her hands on Leo's arms and moved him around to where she wanted him to be, keeping her head tilted back to focus on the lightbulbs. 

“You know,” Leo said casually, “there's this great little hole in the wall place over the bridge where you can get three-way chili and waffle-cut fries. Three-way chili's unique to this area, they take the chili and they put cinnamon in it, and cocoa powder too, and then they pour it over spaghetti noodles.” He didn't seem to be paying attention at all to her manhandling, busy talking about food. “Pile a little mountain of shredded cheese on it and serve it with oyster crackers. It's like a rite of passage. We took the whole team there last time we were campaigning here, back in 2000. It was pretty funny, making Josh and Toby pretend to like it because there was press there.” 

“If you're over the bridge, aren't you in Kentucky anyway?” Annabeth asked, bending over to make a masking tape mark on the stage. “I didn't think our team was usually in play down there.” 

“Well it never hurt anybody to do a little bit of outreach,” Leo reminded her with a grin that was half-smirk. She didn't know why she found that look so appealing. “Tell you what, after we're done here, you and I should go down there and get something to eat. Get away from the campaign for a couple hours, even if I can't shed the detail.” His half-smirk became full-smirk. “Unless you're still worried about the tension,” 

She met his eyes, smirked right back at him. “I think I can handle a little tension,” she told him. It was a bad idea, but she wasn't going to run away again. The place really was a little hole in the wall, looked like it hadn't been renovated in four or five decades, but the food was exactly as described. Annabeth had no idea what to do with her pile of cheesy chili noodles, but at least the fries were edible and the company was excellent. Leo needed a lot of work in front of crowds, but one on one his charisma was fantastic. He told funny stories about old campaigns, drew stories from her about her work on Taylor Reid, her family back home, even the funny story about how she'd found her cat, Mister Pennybags, in a Goodwill donation bin. At the end of the evening, back at the hotel, he'd escorted her to her room and brushed a kiss onto her cheek before saying goodnight. If Annabeth had been the sort of woman to swoon, she probably would've done so. She might have swooned just a little bit anyway. 

The campaign trail was very busy and very public, there wasn't time for much of anything in terms of building a new relationship, but Annabeth was okay with that. There was a lot to think about, and she was in no hurry. Leo was twenty years older than she was, and that alone was enough to give her pause, but he didn't talk or act like an old man. His brain was so sharp, so quick, and his well of knowledge so deep. She had to stay on her toes to keep up with him, but it was exhilarating rather than intimidating. He had health problems, she knew that too, but he certainly looked fine now, and he was taking care of himself better. And there was the fact that in a few months he might be Vice President of the United States, which might put a crimp in his dating life, but that seemed like borrowing trouble from tomorrow. They managed to share a few more meals, a few more discreet kisses. He was an excellent kisser, and it was nice not feeling like she had to stand on a chair (or actually having to stand on a chair) to meet his lips. Annabeth wondered what he'd be like in bed, but didn't make any moves in that direction herself. She was an old-fashioned girl at heart. 

After all the subtlety and secrecy, Annabeth was surprised and gratified when Leo asked her to dance at Ellie Bartlet's wedding reception. It wasn't as though there weren't plenty of people doing duty dances or dancing with friends, but she knew and he knew that this was different. His hands were impeccably placed, as were hers, but their bodies were just an inch closer together than required by propriety, just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him and that every so often they would brush together on the turns. It was torturous and exquisite. It definitely made it difficult to talk, but she managed anyway. “Trouble in the air tonight,” she murmured. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. A politician's answer; she could tell instantly from his face that he knew what she was talking about. 

“The Congressman has a storm cloud three feet wide over his head and is having secret meetings where nobody smiles in corners with old fat men in suits,” she pointed out. “Josh Lyman looks like someone canceled Christmas to give him a life-or-death math test, and Donna is running around as though there's a fire somewhere and she just hasn't found it yet. The White House people could barely find time to attend the wedding at all, and they're supposed to be hosting. There's trouble in the air, Leo, and people are noticing.” 

Leo firmed his grip on her a little, drew her another inch closer. “It's nothing,” he promised her. “It's all handled. People get nervous six weeks before the election, it's just natural, but you dance with the one that brung you.” 

She smiled up at him. “And is that why I'm dancing with you now?” 

“There's nobody in this room I'd rather be dancing with,” he told her with a smile. Not a smirk, a real one. “I've got to admit, I've got no idea why you're dancing with me.” 

“I like a man who can dance,” Annabeth told him. “Add in the fact that he's handsome, and has a great smile, and knows the best restaurant in every major city in America, and really I don't see why I should be dancing with anybody else.” He laughed, which crinkled the corners of his eyes irresistibly. If Annabeth could just make the cameras see what she saw, the Santos-McGarry ticket would be up by ten, but on the other hand, some things she just wanted to keep to herself. She went home with him that night, to the apartment he'd had to rent when he came under Secret Service protection. They drank coffee and danced again in his living room, and when he invited her to his bed she found she had no complaints about the tension, or indeed much breath to talk about anything at all. 

In the morning, they ate fruit and toast for breakfast and talked about what would come next. “It's important that we remain professional on the campaign,” Annabeth began firmly after finishing the last of her toast. “We're colleagues, and you're going to need me close at hand for the debate and the last weeks of the campaign. The last thing we need is to cause any distractions from the message.” 

He nodded, unperturbed. “This is true. I think we've done a reasonable job so far, don't you?” 

She smiled coyly. “More than reasonable,” she agreed. 

“And what about after the election?” Leo actually sounded a little uncertain, not something she was used to hearing. 

“After the election, whatever happens, I won't be working with you anymore,” she pointed out, folding her napkin into neat quarters and setting it down on her empty plate. “You'll probably be the vice president, which will raise some issues of its own, but nobody ever made it illegal for the vice president to date.” 

“That's true,” Leo nodded. “You ever been to the Naval Observatory? It's a pretty nice house. Got a great kitchen, and not a bad view either.” 

“I've never been there,” she replied. “I'd like to see it, though. Maybe in January you can invite me over for dinner.” She rose from her seat and, being a gentleman, he rose automatically with her. 

“Until then I guess you'll just have to put up with this crummy apartment whenever we can get to town.” He laughed and took her in his arms again, though they both knew she had to go. Neither of them would suggest doing anything in a campaign hotel, that was an easy way to fuel the gossip circuit. 

“Or you could come to mine,” she offered slyly. “Mister Pennybags would love to meet you. Maybe tonight after the fundraiser. We don't fly out till 9am.” 

“You know that's a ridiculous name for a cat, right?” he asked with a faint chuckle. She gave him a look that had him letting it go. “Tonight sounds good. Do you need me to call you a cab?” 

“That's very thoughtful, thanks.” She gave him one more kiss, then gathered up her overnight bag and headed for the door. The next six weeks, she decided, would be hard to wait through.


End file.
